


Pretiosus lapis

by beargirl1393



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Bashing, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, minorly implied homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-10 08:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beargirl1393/pseuds/beargirl1393
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins is a twenty-five year old bookshop owner, to whom nothing extraordinary ever happens. That is, until a strange man shows up at his store, unable to speak English and strangely drawn to Bilbo.<br/>(I'm bad at summaries, so this might be better than it sounds.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> I do not speak Russian, nor do I know anyone who does, so all of Bifur's parts have been written using Google Translate. Forgive me if something is wrong. All of the translations will be at the end of the chapter. Also, I used the translator for the title, which is supposed to be Latin for "precious stone".

Bilbo Baggins had a fairly mundane life. In fact, his name was more than likely the most unusual thing about him.

When he was younger, Bilbo had run around hunting for fairies and dwarves and elves, running all around his backyard and the neighborhood in search of adventure. The spirit of adventure stayed with him until his parents died, shortly after his nineteenth birthday, leaving him alone.

He inherited Bag-End bookshop, which his father had built and his mother had stocked and kept running, after winning a small legal battle with his distant cousins, the Sackville-Bagginses. Even when he was running himself ragged, splitting his time between finishing college and running the shop, Bilbo had never dreamed of giving it up. Little by little though, he began to become something of a recluse, a thoroughly respectable recluse to be sure, but a recluse none the less. He spent his days in the bookshop, shelving books and ringing up orders. Nights were spent baking, as he sold homemade desserts and tea.

And so, at twenty-five, Bilbo Baggins had all but forgotten his childhood dreams of slaying dragons and finding buried treasure. He had a comfortable, albeit lonely, life, and he was happy. That all changed when Bifur Broadbeam appeared.

* * *

 

Bilbo came downstairs from his rooms above the shop and opened the shop promptly at eight every morning. Most weekdays, there would be a few stragglers in the morning and around noon, with more people stopping by at the end of the day. Weekends were always the busiest.

This morning, a Wednesday, looked as though it would be one of the slow ones. It was raining, meaning that few people would want to be out in this weather, so the chances of people window-shopping and deciding to pop in to check out the store were slim. It was the perfect day, in Bilbo’s mind, to be sitting beside a roaring fire with a book and a cup of tea. However, that was going to have to wait, as there were books that needed shelved.

He was in the back room gathering up another set of books to set out when the door to the shop dinged.

“I’ll be right with you,” Bilbo called out, setting down his armload of books and hurrying to the front of the store. There was a man with long dark hair and a matching beard, slightly taller than Bilbo, looking around the store with faint interest. He had a scar running from his hairline down to his left eyebrow. Bilbo thought he looked like he might have only come in to get out of the rain. “Welcome to Bag-End Bookshop; Bilbo Baggins at your service. What can I do for you?”

“доброе утро,” the man replied, bowing. Bilbo’s brow furrowed.

“Um…I’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” he said, frowning.

The strange man frowned as well. “Вы говорите на русском?” he tried, hoping the other man would understand.

Bilbo just shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said again, “But I don’t understand. I don’t really know any other languages, except a bit of French.”

The strange man made an aggravated noise before sighing. “Меня зовут Bifur,” he said, hoping the other man would at least be able to understand that.

Bilbo’s brow furrowed as he thought. “Your name is…Bifur?” he asked, slightly unsure.

The man nodded, smiling slightly. Bilbo noticed that he had a nice smile.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Bifur,” Bilbo replied, smiling in return. “Wait…can you speak English?”

Bifur shook his head. He had no problem understanding English, as his mother taught him long ago, but after his accident he was only able to speak Russian, his first language. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have bothered to talk to strangers without Bofur or Bombur with him, but there was something about Bilbo Baggins that interested him.

“Oh,” Bilbo said, frowning again. “So you don’t understand me?”

Bifur shook his head in the negative, which made Bilbo frown even more.

“You understand English but can’t speak it?” he asked, his confusion clearing when Bifur nodded again. “Oh,” he said again, for lack of anything better to say.

Bifur smiled again. Bilbo was different, that much was for certain. He hadn’t automatically tried to make him speak English, or stop talking to him because they didn’t believe that he could understand. Bilbo found a work around, temporary and faulty as it may be.

He did want to actually talk to the other man though.

Pulling out his phone, Bifur quickly called his cousin Bofur. “Мне нужна ваша помощь,” he said as soon as the other answered.

 _“What’s wrong Bifur?”_  Bofur asked, concerned.

“Я говорю с кем-то, и он меня не понимает,” Bifur said, ignoring Bilbo’s confused look for the moment.

 _“He must be something special if you haven’t already written him off,”_ Bofur said, his smile audible in his voice _. “What do you want me to say?”_

“Скажите ему, что я не могу говорить по-английски из-за аварии, но я хотел бы поговорить с ним,” Bifur replied, preparing to pass the phone over to Bilbo.

 _“Should I also mention that he is the first person you’ve been remotely interested in since the accident?”_ Bofur asked, amused.

“Вы бы лучше не,” Bifur snarled before passing the phone to Bilbo. He took it, curious.

“Hello? Um, who am I speaking to?”

 _“Bofur, at yer service,”_ Bofur replied.

“Oh. Bilbo Baggins, at yours,” Bilbo replied, glancing from the phone to Bifur, a question clearly in his eyes.

 _“Great,”_ Bofur replied. _“Now, my cousin Bifur called me because he can’t speak a lick of English anymore. He was in a bad accident a few years back, and while he still remembers it, he can’t speak it. He wanted me to tell you that he wants to talk to you.”_

“Oh,” Bilbo said, flustered. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking at Bifur. “Do you have any suggestions?” he asked Bofur.

_“Have him bring you ‘round the house, and either Bombur or me’ll translate for ya. We’ll try to teach ya a bit too.”_

“That’s…kind of you,” Bilbo said, now more confused than ever, “But, I have to look after the store…”

“Он может приехать сюда,” Bifur interrupted, speaking loudly enough that Bofur would be able to hear him.

 _“He wants me to come to yer shop,”_ Bofur said. _“Is that alright?”_

“I…I guess,” Bilbo replied, flustered. When he woke up this morning, he did not think he would be attempting to talk to a total stranger who is apparently interested in him who apparently can’t speak English. “It’s rather slow today…”

 _“Great,”_ Bofur said, and Bifur knew he was smiling. _“Now, where are ya at?”_

“Bag-End Bookshop,” Bilbo replied before handing the phone back to Bifur.

 _“I’ll be there in about half-an-hour,”_ Bofur said.

“спасибо,” Bifur replied before hanging up.

“Do you do this for everyone you want to talk to?” Bilbo asked curiously, breaking the slightly awkward silence that had fallen.

“нет,” Bifur replied, shaking his head. He didn’t know what it was about shop owner, but he definitely wanted to get to know him better. Bofur couldn’t get here soon enough.

Bilbo was left more confused than ever, gesturing Bifur to take a seat in one of the armchairs dotted around the room as he went to put the kettle on. This morning, he had been a perfectly normal bookshop owner going about his everyday routine. Now, he was waiting for a man he’d never met to translate for another man he hardly knows but thinks him fascinating enough to be worth the inconvenience. He felt something that he hadn’t really felt since his parents had died. Bilbo felt _excited_ , eager to know more about the strange man sitting in his shop.

Bofur, for his part, was chuckling as he pulled on his boots and headed out the door. He didn’t know what was so special about this Bilbo Baggins, but he had to be something if Bifur was going through all this trouble. He wondered just what his brother wanted to know, and what the other man would ask in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> доброе утро- Good morning  
> Вы говорите на русском?- Do you speak Russian?  
> Меня зовут Bifur- My name is Bifur  
> Мне нужна ваша помощь- I need your help  
> Я говорю с кем-то, и он меня не понимает- I'm talking to someone and he does not understand me  
> Скажите ему, что я не могу говорить по-английски из-за аварии, но я хотел бы поговорить с ним- Tell him that I cannot speak English because of the accident, but I would like to talk with him  
> Вы бы лучше не- You'd better not  
> Он может приехать сюда- He can come here  
> Спасибо- Thank you  
> нет- No


	2. Questions & Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's read this, and thanks to everyone who reviewed. The translations for what Bifur said will be at the end of the chapter, because sometimes Bofur paraphrases what his brother says. As I mentioned before, I don't speak Russian, so all of Bifur's speech comes from Google Translator.

Bilbo and Bifur waited in silence while they waited for Bofur. It was a nice, companionable silence, broken only when Bilbo would mention something about the books he was currently shelving. He was well-read, Bifur noted, and he seemed at home in the maze of slightly dusty shelves. Bifur smiled as the shorter man tried to put a book on a shelf above his reach, huffing when he was too short. Without saying a word, Bifur stood and made his way over to Bilbo, plucking the book from his hand and easily slotting it into place.  
“Thank you,” Bilbo said, smiling slightly.  
“Не стоит благодарности,” Bifur replied, then cringed when he realized that the other man more than likely had no clue what he said. A light touch on his arm brought him out of his self-flagellation. Bilbo smiled when Bifur met his eyes.  
“It’s alright,” Bilbo soothed. “I understand, I think.”  
That made Bifur smile, as it had been a long time since anyone who wasn’t family had bothered to consider how it felt to know what you wanted to say yet still be unable to make others understand. Bilbo Baggins was certainly different, that was for sure.  
The bell above the door tinkling alerted them to Bofur’s arrival. Moving out of the rows of shelves, Bilbo was confronted with another dark-haired man, similar to Bifur in height and build, with two braids in his long hair and an absurd hat on his head.  
“Bofur,” he greeted when Bilbo approached, Bifur right behind, “And you must be Bilbo.”  
“Yes,” he nodded, “Pleasure to meet you. Take a seat please, and I’ll be with you as soon as I finish shelving these books.”  
“Thanks,” Bofur said, moving to sit in the chair across from where Bifur had been sitting earlier. Bifur flopped down in his chair, his eyes following Bilbo as he moved around the store.  
“So,” Bofur said, breaking his brother out of his thoughts with a smile, “What is so special about Mr. Baggins that you decided you needed a translator?”  
Bifur shrugged. “Я не знаю. Там просто что-то о нем, что меня интересует.”  
Bofur shook his head. “He must be something special if you actually want to talk to him. This is a first. Even before the accident you didn’t talk to anyone if you could help it.”  
Bifur opened his mouth to object, but Bilbo chose that moment to appear, smiling and with three cups of tea.  
“So, what do you want to know?” Bofur asked, looking from his brother to Bilbo.  
“А вы откуда?” Bifur asked, with Bofur translating for Bilbo.  
“He wants to know where ya’re from.”  
“I’m from around here, actually,” Bilbo said, looking down at his cup. “I’ve never moved out of the Shire and my parents left me Bag-End, so I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to. I won’t let Lobelia get her slimy paws all over my father’s store or my mother’s silverware.”  
Bifur blinked. He hadn’t expected the other man to be so upfront with him, but it confirmed his earlier supposition about the man. Bilbo Baggins is lonely.  
“What happened?” Bilbo asked, gesturing at the scar on Bifur’s forehead, a remnant of the accident.  
“Я был лесорубом,” Bifur grunted, “и одним из людей, которых я работал с был неосторожен. Он споткнулся, и его топор полетел. Он ударил меня.”  
Bofur translated that, adding, “Doctors said he should have died, but Bifur’s a tough sod and proved them wrong.”  
“I’m sorry,” Bilbo repeated, causing Bifur to shake his head.  
“Что случилось с твоими родителями?” he asked, noticing how sad the other man was every time he mentioned them.  
“Car crash,” Bilbo replied, not looking at either of the others. “They were on their way home after visiting relatives and they were hit by a drunk driver. The police said they died instantly.”  
“Прости,” Bifur said, Bofur echoing him in English. The shorter man shrugged, taking a sip of his tea.  
“Why me?” Bilbo asked, finally meeting Bifur’s eyes again. “What’s so special about me?”  
“Я не знаю,” Bifur replied honestly, “Вы меня заинтересовать.”  
“You interest him,” Bofur said, leaving out the first part of the sentence.  
“But why?” Bilbo pressed.  
Bifur just shrugged. He didn’t know why Bilbo was interesting, but the other man became more interesting as time passed, not less.  
Bilbo shook his head, obviously giving up.  
“Почему вы это делаете?” Bifur asked. “Вы не должны потакать меня, но что вы сделали.”  
“He wants to know why you agreed to this,” Bofur translated, gesturing between the three of them. “You could have easily just told him to leave, but ya didn’t. Why?”  
Bilbo bit his bottom lip, obviously considering his answer. Why hadn’t he thrown the strange man from the shop, or at least ignored him until he left? Why had he humored him, and more than that, why had he opened up to him?  
“Because you are exciting,” Bilbo said, barely realizing he was speaking. “After my parents died, I gave up on all of my dreams of having grand adventures, or at least doing something slightly different. You are different, and not just because of the accident. There’s just something…I don’t know… different about you, and it interests me.”  
Bifur smiled at that. Apparently the other man was drawn to him, just as he was to Bilbo.  
“Сколько вам лет?” Bifur asked, deciding that it would be best to ask less sensitive questions for a bit.  
“How old are you?” Bofur translated, frowning as he looked at Bilbo. “I’d like to know that myself. You don’t look old enough to be running this place on your own.”  
Bilbo bristled. “I’m twenty-five, and I have been ‘running this place on my own’ since I was nineteen.”  
“Easy,” Bofur replied, holding up his hands. “I didn’t mean anything by it, just that you looked a little young, that’s all. He’s twenty-eight, by the way.”  
Bilbo nodded. “That would have been my next question.”  
Bofur realized, at that point, that this was bizarrely like a date. Bifur and Bilbo were seeming to get along well, if you get over the language barrier, and if he wasn’t there it more than likely could have been considered a date. That thought had him laughing so hard he nearly fell from his chair, because after all of the times he had told Bifur that he needed to date more, he never thought his cousin would actually listen to him.  
Bilbo and Bifur stared at Bofur as he laughed, before Bilbo turned to Bifur, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with him?”  
“Что нет?” Bifur replied dryly, watching his hysterical cousin with mild amusement.  
“Oi,” Bofur said, straightening, “I heard that.”  
Before Bilbo could ask what Bifur had said (although he could guess that it wasn’t very flattering to Bofur), Bifur replied.  
“Ты должен был.”  
“Not very nice Bifur,” Bofur shot back. “After all, I’m helping you out on your date with Mr. Baggins here.”  
“Date?” Bilbo squeaked, looking from an amused Bofur to a murderous Bifur.  
“Скажите ему, что это было не свидание, либо,” Bifur threatened, incensed. He had considered asking Bilbo out, but that wouldn’t happen until later, when the other man was more comfortable around him. And when he could actually understand him.  
“Or else what?” Bofur asked sardonically before turning to a still shocked Bilbo. “He said this wasn’t a date. If I know him, he wasn’t planning on asking you on a date because he thought you’d turn him down.”  
“And you’re just helping him out,” Bilbo quipped. He was oddly pleased that Bifur seemed to like him. Bilbo knew that he wasn’t much to look at; he was rather plain, truth be told. Apparently, Bifur didn’t mind that. “And I would love to go out with you Bifur.”  
Bifur’s eyes widened. “В самом деле?”  
Bilbo smiled; he didn’t need Bofur to translate that one. “Really Bifur. But if I could make a suggestion?”  
Bifur nodded.  
“We should post-pone the date until I have learned at least minimal Russian,” Bilbo replied, with a small smirk, “So that we don’t need a translator.”  
Bifur smiled back. Bilbo apparently had the same idea he did. “я согласен,” he said, nodding.  
“That’s decided then,” Bilbo smiled. “Now, shall we discuss when lessons will commence?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Не стоит благодарности- Not at all (as in, don't mention it)  
> Я не знаю. Там просто что-то о нем, что меня интересует- I do not know. There's just something about him that interests me.  
> А вы откуда?- Where are you from?  
> Я был лесорубом, и одним из людей, которых я работал с был неосторожен. Он споткнулся, и его топор полетел. Он ударил меня- I was a lumberjack, and one of the people I worked with was careless. He tripped and his ax flew. It hit me.  
> Что случилось с твоими родителями?- What happened to your parents?  
> Прости- I'm sorry  
> Я не знаю- I do not know  
> Вы меня заинтересовать- You interest me  
> Почему вы это делаете?- Why are you doing this?  
> Вы не должны потакать меня, но что вы сделали- You do not have to indulge me, but you did  
> Сколько вам лет?- How old are you?  
> Что нет?- What isn't?  
> Ты должен был- You were supposed to  
> Скажите ему, что это было не свидание, либо- Tell him this was not a date or else  
> В самом деле?- Really?  
> я согласен- I agree
> 
> *Any ideas what should happen next? What should they do for their date?*


	3. The First Lesson

It was decided that every weekday Bifur would come by when the shop closed at eight (if he wasn’t already there), with either Bofur or Bombur, Bifur’s other cousin. Lessons would be from eight till nine, and would consist on getting Bilbo at least proficient in Russian, if not fluent.

Bofur left after promising to come back at the end of the day for the first lesson, leaving Bilbo and Bifur alone. It turned out that Bifur had actually came to the bookshop because he saw the ad Bilbo put in the paper about needing help with the store. Bifur wouldn’t be able to work the cash register, but he would be able to help with the running of the bookshop, stacking shelves and such.

That’s exactly what they did after Bofur left. Bilbo showed Bifur to the back room, and then the two of them set to work shelving the newest shipment of books. Bilbo would pause occasionally to help customers, but he usually returned to sorting and shelving books within an hour. They worked well together, despite the fact that they worked mostly in silence. Words weren’t necessary after Bilbo had explained where everything went. If Bifur was uncertain, he would simply hold the book up and Bilbo would tell him which aisle it would go to. From there, they were sorted by the author’s last name.

When Bofur came back at eight, he found Bifur and Bilbo laughing over something while they wiped down the tables and straightened chairs. _Looks like the language barrier isn’t hindering him that much,_ Bofur thought, before calling out his greetings. After getting tea for everyone, Bilbo sat across from Bifur and Bofur.

“Ok, how are we going to do this?” Bofur asked, looking from one to the other. “Seemed to me you were getting along fine.”

“We were,” Bilbo said, before shaking his head, “But it’s not a long-term solution. Bifur was signing things, usually spelling them out because I barely know any sign language.”

Bofur’s eyebrows rose. He had forgotten that his cousin had learned to sign after the accident. Since he only used it if he needed to talk to someone who didn’t speak Russian, Bofur and Bombur had never paid the signs much notice.

“Что-то простое первой,” Bifur said to his cousin. “доброе утро.”

Bilbo looked at Bifur curiously. He had a small notebook to take notes, and with Bofur’s help he was planning on writing the words down. “The second phrase you said, you said that to me when you entered the store.”

“More than likely,” Bofur replied. “доброе утро means good morning.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said, pen scratching quickly across the paper to write down the words (using a printout of the Cyrillic alphabet), their pronunciations, and meaning.

By the time nine o’clock rolled around, Bilbo knew how to say good morning, good afternoon, good evening, how are you, and several interesting curses.

“I’d say we made good progress,” Bofur said, grinning.

“В этом случае, мы доберемся до нашего первого свидания через три года,” Bifur grunted.

Bofur laughed while Bilbo stared at the two, confused, before shaking his head. _Sometimes it’s better not to know._

The three parted ways soon after, Bilbo heading up to his room above the shop while Bofur and BIfur went back to the house they shared.

* * *

 

“He’s a funny lad,” Bofur stated, watching his brother carve something. “Seems nice enough.”

Bifur just grunted. Bilbo was more than that, but he had a feeling that was something Bilbo wouldn’t agree with. The other man had seemed so surprised the first time Bifur had made him laugh. His shy confession, that he hadn’t had much cause for laughter since his parents died, had saddened him. His sadness fueled his anger when he heard about Bilbo’s cousins trying to take the shop, forcing the young man to put his traveling plans on hold and try to juggle college and running a store. He managed it too, but it caused something inside him to break. The something that was apparently mending itself when Bifur was around, as he excited the little man, but it wasn’t healed yet.

“What’re you making anyway?” Bofur asked, curious. Bifur had been the one to teach him the ways of toy making, but the other man hadn’t carved anything in a long time.

“Подарок для Bilbo,” Bifur says, not looking up from his work.

“What is it?” Bofur asked, curiously. He couldn’t tell, as the Bifur was sitting blocked his carving from view.

“Вы увидите,” was all Bifur would say.

 Bofur shrugged and gave up. If Bifur didn’t want to talk, there was no way to make him. _That’s not entirely true anymore,_ Bofur thought with a smirk, calling to mind a man with honey-colored curls and a small smile. _Mr. Baggins seems to be the only one who can get Bifur to open up._

* * *

 

In his apartment over the shop, Bilbo sat in his kitchen with a mug of tea, wondering about the events of the day. Everything had started so normally…before they took a twist for the bizarre. In his wildest imaginings, he would have never thought that he would end up in an almost-relationship with a man he knows next to nothing about and who he can barely understand.

 His Baggins side (the more respectable of the two) is appalled. His Took side (inherited from his mother) is overjoyed, as there has never been a Took who will run away from an adventure. A Baggins would just mutter that adventures will make you late for dinner.

Bilbo can’t bring himself to care about that, though. Bifur is just…so _different_ from anyone else. He looks fierce and foreboding, but when he smiles it changes his whole expression. It turns him from someone to avoid, someone dangerous, into someone anyone would want to know. Bifur doesn’t smile enough though, and Bilbo plans to fix that.

That will hinge on his learning Russian however so, with a small sigh, Bilbo pulled his notebook closer, flipping through a book he had bought from the shop. (Just because he’s the owner, doesn’t mean that he can steal merchandise).

Flipping through the Russian phrasebook, Bilbo thinks it is a good thing he has always been studious, as otherwise he and Bifur wouldn’t get to their first date before the end of the century.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Что-то простое первой- Something simple first  
> доброе утро- Good morning  
> В этом случае, мы доберемся до нашего первого свидания через три года- At this rate, we'll get to our first date three years from now  
> Подарок для Bilbo- A gift for Bilbo  
> Вы увидите- You will see
> 
> *Any ideas for what Bifur's present will be? It will either be something he knows Bilbo will like, or it will be something he thinks represents Bilbo*


	4. A Gift

Bifur was nervous as he headed to the bookstore the next day. He had worked most of the night on his carving and hoped Bilbo would like it, but he was understandably nervous. They hadn’t even gotten to their first date yet! What if Bilbo decided that it was too soon for gifts? What if he didn’t like the carving? Was it too simple? These worries and others plagued him on the ten minute walk to Bag-End.

When he got there, Bilbo had already twisted the sign on the door to read “Open” and Bifur could see him bustling about, setting out the new trays of baked goods, prepared fresh each night.

When the tingling of the bell announced his presence, Bilbo looked up and smiled at him. Bifur felt his breath catch at that sight. Bilbo seemed…happier, less tense than he had before. There were still shadows in his eyes, and under them, but Bifur was happy to note that the younger man hadn’t had second thoughts.

“доброе утро,” Bilbo said.

“доброе утро,” Bifur replied, hands stuffed in his pockets. The little carving brushed against his hand, but he couldn’t give it to Bilbo yet.

“Could you start stacking the books we didn’t get to last night?” Bilbo asked, refocusing on the tray. Bifur seemed oddly preoccupied, and while he wanted to ask, he knew sometimes that it was better to let others speak their minds in their own time.

Bifur nodded, grateful for the reprieve to gather his thoughts, and soon he re-entered the store with an armful of books, heading off to shelve them.

It was half an hour later, while Bilbo was in the historical fiction section and he was just leaving the back room with several science fiction books, when the door to the shop opened, bell jingling merrily, while an old man in a grey shirt and slacks entered. His eyes were grey too, Bifur noted, as the man looked at him.

“Hello,” the man greeted. Bifur nodded, wondering what was keeping Bilbo. “Are you the new assistant Bilbo was considering hiring.”

Bifur nodded, considering calling for the other man. The historical fiction section was on the far side of the store, and it’s possible that he hadn’t heard the bell.

“You’re a quiet one,” the man noted, causing Bifur to nod again.

“Bifur, did you finish with the science fiction books?” Bilbo asked, interrupting the man unknowingly. He came from around one of the shelves, carrying a few books that had been put on the wrong shelves by prospective buyers who had changed their minds. “I found a few…oh, hello Gandalf. Is it nine already?”

Bifur looked from the man in grey to Bilbo, wondering if he was missing something. Bilbo smiled as he saw the confusion on Bifur’s face.

“Bifur, this is Gandalf Grey, one of my best customers. He knew my mother’s family, somehow,” Bilbo said, frowning as he tried to trace the connection before giving up with a shrug. “Gandalf, this is Bifur Broadbeam. He’s my new assistant.”

“Silent chap,” the man, Gandalf, said.

“He can only speak Russian,” Bilbo said, “Though he understands English.”

“An odd choice for you, Bilbo,” Gandalf said, and Bifur didn’t think the other man was only talking about hiring Bifur as his assistant. “I had assumed that you would employ young mister Gamgee.”

“Hamfast is nice enough, but unless it has to do with plants he wouldn’t be interested,” Bilbo replied, moving towards the romance section. “Stop trying to meddle Gandalf. I have told you more than once that I don’t need any more adventure in my life.”

“Which is contradicted by your choice in employee,” Gandalf countered, heading towards the classics section.

“Ignore the meddling old man,” Bilbo called over his shoulder to Bifur. He noticed that Bilbo’s eyes were sparkling with amusement. “He means well, he really does, but he loves to meddle.”

Bifur just shook his head, smiling, as he went to finish shelving the books.

* * *

 

The rest of the day passed easily, and when closing time rolled around Bifur had finally gathered up the courage to give Bilbo his gift.

“это для вас,” Bifur said, handing the other man the carefully wrapped gift after they had finished straightening the chairs and cleaning the tables.

Bilbo took it, curious. While he didn’t understand the Russian, he understood the intent. Carefully, he unwrapped the small package, withdrawing a delicate wooden carving of a deer. It’s joints were mobile, meaning he could pose it, and the head and ears were mobile as well. It was incredibly life-like, and Bilbo stared at it in awe.

“This…this is beautiful Bifur,” he said, gently brushing one finger along the carving’s back. “Where did you get this?”

Bilbo looked up when the other man didn’t answer. Bifur gestured at himself, hoping that Bilbo would catch on.

“You…you made this?” Bilbo gasped.

Bifur nodded, slightly wary. Bilbo hadn’t looked at him, aside from when he wanted an answer, focusing all of his attention on the deer. Did he like it?

He had his answer when he had his arms full of the small bookshop owner. He held the other man close, looking down after a moment. He was surprised to see tears on Bilbo’s face. “Bilbo?” he said, uncertain.

“No one has ever done something like that for me,” Bilbo said, his voice shaking slightly. “You must have…this must have taken…”

Bifur smiled, relieved that Bilbo liked his gift and that he was so obviously impressed.

“Thank you,” he said. Looking up (why was everyone taller than him?), he raised himself on his tiptoes slightly and lightly pressed his lips to Bifur’s.

The kiss was soft, chaste, and brief, but when Bilbo pulled back there was a light flush on both of their cheeks.

“Thank you,” he repeated, smiling.

“что-либо для вас,”Bifur said, not releasing Bilbo. He was glad that the other man wouldn’t understand him. The sentiment was true, there was no doubt in Bifur’s mind about that, but he knew that he was getting ahead of himself. They hadn’t even had an actual date yet!

The soft glow in his chest that had appeared at the first sign of Bilbo’s happiness had yet to leave though and, as he left the bookstore, he hoped that that feeling would be around for quite some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> доброе утро- Good morning  
> это для вас- This is for you  
> что-либо для вас- Anything for you
> 
> *I had Bifur carve a deer for Bilbo, because there are a lot of meanings associated with deer that I thought Bifur could see in Bilbo. Gracefulness, kindness, swift, nimble, meek, purity, love...yeah, my Bifur has it bad.*


	5. Making Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter just didn't want to be written :(

Bifur’s wish was granted, as it seemed that Bilbo would open up a little more each day. His struggles with his Sackville-Baggins cousins. His worries for his cousins Drogo and Primula, who were far too fond of boating had had a few accidents already. He heard about their son, little Frodo, and Bilbo showed him the picture like the proud uncle he was.

BIfur, for his part, would do the same, as well as he was able. Bilbo’s lessons in Russian were coming along well, as the other man had an instinctive flair for languages, and Bilbo was understanding more and more of what Bifur said. Enough so that he could tell the other man about his own problems.

His worries about the toy store, which had been going through a dry spell. How infuriated or embarrassed he would get when someone asked him about his scar and he couldn’t explain. (Bilbo was the exception to that; he hadn’t minded having Bofur tell him.) How infuriated or ashamed he was at their pity. Yes, he was broken, but that was none of their concern.

Bilbo hadn’t been pleased at that last statement.

“You are not broken Bifur,” Bilbo said, hands on his hips and glaring at the other man. Bofur had left after their lesson, while Bifur had stayed to talk for a while longer.

Bifur shook his head, disagreeing. He could no longer speak a language he had no problems understanding. Before the accident, he could speak English with no more thought than it took to speak Russian. Now…

“You aren’t broken,” Bilbo repeated, moving closer and putting his hands on Bofur’s arms. He squeezed slightly. “I don’t see someone who is broken. I see a man who suffered an accident that should have killed him and managed to survive mostly intact. I could never pity that man; I admire him.”

Bifur pulled the other man closer, wrapping his arms around Bilbo’s waist. He buried his face in his curls, slightly overcome. “зачем?”

“Because I couldn’t have done half as well,” Bilbo said seriously. “I would never pity you Bifur, I promise.”

“Я думал, что это, почему вы впервые согласился поговорить со мной,” Bifur confessed.

Bilbo frowned as he tried to understand. “You thought…that the only reason why I agreed to talk to you…was because I pitied you?” When Bifur nodded, he frowned. “Silly man,” he said, affection and exasperation mingling in his tone. “I agreed to talk to you…well, I still don’t know exactly why. There was suddenly a strange man in my shop and I couldn’t understand him, but for some reason I wanted to. It had nothing to do with pity.”

Bifur’s grip tightens, although he says nothing. What is there to say to that?

After a few minutes, Bilbo pulls back so that he can look Bifur in the face. “Let’s have dinner.”

“сейчас?” he asked, bemused.

“No, not now,” Bilbo said, rolling his eyes. “I meant…I’ve learned a bit in the past couple weeks, so I thought…”

He’s stuttering now, and it takes a minute for Bifur to grasp what he’s hinting at. The date. The date that they had agreed would occur whenever Bilbo had become proficient in Russian so that they wouldn’t need a translator. Their _first_ date.

“завтра?” Bifur asked, smiling a little.

“Tomorrow,” Bilbo agreed. “We can go back to mine, or well, up to it,” he said, gesturing in the direction of his flat. “I can cook pretty well, and bake too.”

“Я мог бы сделать что-то и,” Bifur offered. He wouldn’t say that he was a great cook, but he had a few dishes that he had perfected. “медальоны чеснока стейк,” he muses. When he realizes that Bilbo didn’t understand, he grabbed a notepad and wrote it down.

“Garlic steak medallions?” Bilbo asked. “Sounds good.  I can make twice-baked sweet potatoes to go with it. I have an idea for dessert too.”

That is that, it seems, and they part soon after. Bifur only works part of the day tomorrow, leaving him plenty of time to get the ingredients and make the dish, and if he knows Bilbo the other man will probably make the dessert when he does his usual baking for the store.

Bifur hummed to himself as he began to cook. He was determined to make this the best dish he had ever made, as well as the best one Bilbo had ever eaten. The other man deserved nothing less.

* * *

 

Bilbo, for his part, smiled as he closed the shop a bit early. Bifur was supposed to be there in two hours, giving him plenty of time to start the sweet potatoes and whip up a molten chocolate cake. It was his mother’s recipe, and he had never known it to fail. He had put off making it the night before because he knew it would taste better fresh. If he timed everything right, both of his dishes should be done just before Bifur arrived.

He had to admit that he was slightly nervous, but more than that he was relieved. Lobelia had become increasingly difficult as of late, and he knew that Bifur was having problems of his own. Tonight, they could both relax and forget about their problems, although Bilbo was still considering ways to help his friend (he still couldn’t think of Bifur as his _boyfriend_ , as they were too old for that in his mind, but they weren’t exactly _lovers_ either. _Partner_ was rather dry. Definition of terms would definitely be on the agenda soon).

 _Perhaps he could bring some of his creations to the store to sell,_ Bilbo thought, thinking back to the wonderful deer that had pride of place on his bedside table. _If everything he makes is that beautiful, then I doubt anyone would be able to turn away. And if his cousin is half as talented…_

Bilbo nodded to himself. He would ask Bifur about bringing some of his toys to sell at the bookshop. It could help both of them, but more importantly it would make Bifur happy. Bilbo was slowly learning that there were few things he wouldn’t do to make the other man happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> зачем?- What for?  
> Я думал, что это, почему вы впервые согласился поговорить со мной- I thought that was why you first agreed to talk with me  
> сейчас?- Now?  
> завтра?- Tomorrow?  
> Я мог бы сделать что-то и- I could make something too  
> медальоны чеснока стейк- Garlic Steak Medallions


	6. First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor swearing (technically, it's only one word in Russian, but better safe than sorry)

The date went well, with both laughing and chatting happily. Bilbo had been right; they both needed a night to relax. Bifur was ecstatic when Bilbo suggested selling some of his and Bofur’s homemade toys in the bookshop.

“Было бы хорошо для бизнесаm,” Bifur said excitedly. Admittedly, most of his excitement came from the fact that Bilbo obviously thought he was good at what he did. He loved making toys, and he knew he was good at it, but he liked hearing that from the man who was rapidly becoming the most important person in his life.

“Well, you mentioned that the store wasn’t doing as well now, and after that deer…I think the only reason that you’re having trouble is because not enough people know about your store,” Bilbo said practically. “If they see how good you are, they’ll be swarming your shop in droves.” He stood to get the cake, slightly embarrassed at his effusive praise, but it was more than worth it to see the happiness on Bifur’s face.

It was as Bilbo was bringing two plates of cake back to the table that there was a knock on his door. There were two ways to enter the apartment, either by taking the staircase from the shop or climbing the steps behind the shop to get to his back door. He frowned as he set the plates down, glancing at the clock.

“Who on Earth would be calling this late at night?”

Bifur watched as Bilbo headed to answer the door. It seemed that the other man had a fairly good idea of who was there, given the level of tension in his body, but Bifur was at a loss as to what he should do.

“Lobelia, a pleasure as always,” Bilbo said with a polite smile as he opened the door to reveal a short woman with bleached blonde hair and a sneer on her face. “What is it this time?”

The woman, Lobelia, sniffed. “Is that any way to treat your family Bilbo? My my, your manners have gotten worse since your parents’ deaths.”

Bifur got up from the table, moving to stand behind his friend (and more), placing a hand on his shoulder for support.

“And who is this?” Lobelia asked, taking in Bifur with only a cursory glance, as though she had better things to focus on.

“This is Bifur, my…boyfriend,” Bilbo said, settling on the first term to come to mind. Yes, boyfriend was a little juvenile, but it shocked Lobelia, so Bilbo counted that as a win.

“What?” Lobelia asked, practically gaping.

“I do not believe you are hard of hearing,” Bilbo said testily. “We were in the middle of a date, so could you please leave and make whatever threat you planned to make tomorrow? My answer will be the same regardless. You are not getting Bag-End.”

The shock melted quickly away, to be replaced with rage. “It should be mine,” Lobelia all but shrieked. “I am your elder and your closest kin. You were barely of age and not even out of school when they died. The shop should have gone to me!”

“Well, it didn’t,” Bilbo said coolly, leaning against Bifur as he glared at Lobelia. “My mother and father worked hard to build Bag-End up to the successful business it is, and I will not let you ruin that.”

“Вы хотите, чтобы я показал сука двери?”Bifur asked, noticing how tense Bilbo was and wanting to help. He noticed Bilbo hiding a smile at his choice of words before shaking his head.

“Lobelia was just leaving, weren’t you?” Bilbo turned to her, face hard. When she opened her mouth to object, Bilbo beat her to it. “I can bring you up on charges for harassment Lobelia. Imagine how your image would suffer.”

The woman paled before hurrying away.

Bifur smiled slightly as he pulled Bilbo close after the other man had shut the door. He had never known Bilbo to act like that, but it pleased him to know that his love had no problem standing up for himself.

“Кто она?” he asked as they headed back to the table.

“Lobelia Sackville-Baggins,” Bilbo sighed as he sat down. “My cousin by marriage. She has been under the mistaken belief that she is entitled to the store simply because she married my cousin, my father’s brother’s son. Father borrowed money from my uncle to help build the store, but it was all paid back years ago. She, and my cousin Otho, are trying to claim that my parents never repaid the debt, and that Bag-End rightfully belongs to them. They actually took me to court over it a few years ago, right after the accident.”

Bifur frowned. He could imagine gentle Bilbo at nineteen, still in college, learning that his parents are dead and that his cousin wants to take away his livelihood and his parents’ legacy. He hadn’t been too happy with Lobelia before, but now he was furious.

“она может сделать что-нибудь?” Bifur asked, worried for Bilbo.

Bilbo shook his head. “Aside from trying to force me to sell the store, she can do nothing. They didn’t have a leg to stand on in court, and they still don’t. She’s just a nuisance.”

Bifur nodded, before leaning forward to press a light kiss to Bilbo’s lips. There wasn’t much he could do to comfort the other man. He couldn’t promise that Lobelia wouldn’t bother him again, and he couldn’t promise him that he would never lose the shop. All he could do was distract Bilbo from his worries, as Bilbo had done for him earlier that evening.

“Anyway,” Bilbo said, giving Bifur a slightly forced smile, “She doesn’t matter. I believe that we had more important things to talk about than my harpy of a cousin.”

Bifur smiled slightly, although he was still angry. He was glad that he was going to be in the shop now, so that if she tried anything then Bilbo wouldn’t be alone. The other man had already proven to be a match for her, but he wouldn’t sit idly by and let someone malign his love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Было бы хорошо для бизнесаm- It would be good for business  
> Вы хотите, чтобы я показал сука двери?- Do you want me to show the bitch the door?  
> Кто она?- Who is she?  
> она может сделать что-нибудь?- Can she do anything?
> 
> *Is there anything you all wish to see? I'm considering only having a few more chapters, as I'm not sure what else they should do. Is it too soon to introduce Frodo, making Bilbo take him in? Will Bifur move in with Bilbo? Reviews are always appreciated and thanks for reading :)*


	7. The Accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there's been such a delay. This chapter was harder to write, as apparently angst wants nothing to do with this otherwise fluffy fic. However, there is a bit of angst here, as well as minor character death.

Bilbo and Bifur’s relationship had gone from strength to strength, and the two found themselves even more besotted as time passed.

A week after that fateful dinner, Bilbo asked Bifur to move in. At first, he worried that it was too soon, that they were moving too fast, but Bifur’s response set him straight. The other man was overjoyed, and between the two of them they had him settled by the end of the week.

Soon after, Bilbo took Bifur to meet his cousin Drogo, his wife Primula, and their son Frodo. Out of all of his extended family, Drogo and Primula were the only two that he was close to. Bifur was enchanted with Frodo and the opposite was also true. Frodo toddled after Bifur, asking to be held. He was fascinated with Bifur’s beard, as neither his father nor his Uncle Bilbo (the two men he saw the most) had beards. He also loved the toy car that Bifur had made for him.

* * *

 

They were at Bag-End a few weeks later when it happened.

Drogo and Primula had asked Bilbo if he and Bifur would mind watching Frodo for a few hours. They wanted to take their boat out, as they had been too busy in the past few weeks to do so. Bilbo agreed, of course, as he loved spending time with his nephew and Bifur was just as taken with the boy. They had watched him before, and the two of them were able to keep him entertained and still run the shop effectively.

Bifur had just taken Frodo up to the flat to lay him down for his nap when Bilbo’s cell phone rang.

“Is this Mr. Bilbo Baggins?” a male voice queried after hellos had been exchanged.

“Yes, I am, who is this?” Bilbo asked.

“I am Detective Lestrade ,” the man said, causing Bilbo to tense. “I’m sorry to inform you that your cousin, Drogo Baggins, and his wife have been in an accident.”

“Oh my God, are they alright?” Bilbo asked. He just knew that they shouldn’t have taken the boat out today. It had been storming all last night and the water would have been horrible. When he got his hands on Drogo…

“Their accident was fatal,” Detective Lestrade said, and Bilbo could hear his sympathy as he said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Baggins. We will need you to identify the body.”

“Of course,” Bilbo said numbly. “I’ll need to find someone to watch Frodo…oh poor Frodo, how will I tell him…?”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Detective Lestrade said. “You’ll need to stop by the station as well.”

“Yes, yes,” Bilbo said absently. His mind was racing in a thousand different directions and it was hard to focus. Drogo and Primula were dead! He had to go identify their bodies and talk to the officer and arrange their funerals and the reading of their wills, to say nothing of how he was going to break this to Frodo.

Little Frodo, young enough that it would be quite some time before he understood that Mummy and Daddy weren’t coming back.

Bilbo was forcibly not dwelling on the fact that it was Drogo who was dead, Drogo and Primula, his favorite cousins. He needed to keep it together, needed to be calm. Later, when he was in the privacy of his and Bifur’s bedroom, then he would weep.

Speaking of Bifur…

The creaking of the stairs should have alerted Bilbo to his presence, but he was startled when Bifur put his hand on his love’s shoulder.

Bifur frowned. Bilbo looked…he looked lost, overwhelmed, and like he was seconds away from crying.

“Что случилось?” Bifur asked, pulling Bilbo into a loose hug. When he had gone upstairs, Bilbo had been perfectly fine. Fifteen minutes later, he looks to be on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

Bilbo shook his head. “The police called. Drogo and Primula were in an accident. They’re dead. I have to go identify their bodies and speak to Detective Lestrade. They’re _dead_ Bifur! Oh my god, what will I tell Frodo?”

Bifur turned Bilbo to face him and pulled him close, letting him bury his face in his chest. The other man was trembling, shaking with shock and the effort not to cry.

“Это нормально плакать,” he whispered, and that was all it took.

 Bifur reached over and flipped the ‘Open’ sign in the window to show ‘Closed’ before he guided Bilbo to one of the chairs scattered around the little shop. He sat, pulling the other man into his lap and letting him sob out his sorrow, his grief that his cousins were never coming back.

Bifur found that his eyes were tearing up, for although he didn’t know Drogo or Primula that well, he still was sad to learn of their passing. Both had been happy, accepting people, barely blinking when their cousin showed up one day with a man who spoke no English and said that they were in a committed relationship. They were kind people, and he knew Bilbo would feel their loss keenly.

 Bilbo, who had lost both of his parents and now the only family who cared anything for him.

“Что вы будете делать с мальчиком?” he asked, although he thought he knew already. Indeed, Bilbo’s response was nothing less than expected.

“I want to keep him,” Bilbo said, raising his head so that his tear-filled blue eyes met Bifur’s. “The others will be after his inheritance, but I promised Drogo and Primula long ago that I would take care of him should anything happen to them. It’s in their will.”

Bifur nodded. Bilbo would raise him well, and better than the rest of his family, or so he gathered from the tales he’d heard.

“You…you don’t mind, do you?” Bilbo asked suddenly, breaking Bifur from his musings that his sweet Bilbo came from the same lines as that horrible Lobelia.

“Разум?” Bifur asked, nonplussed.

“That I’m planning on adopting Frodo,” Bilbo elaborated.

Bifur just shook his head. Frodo was family, and family looked after each other. He wouldn’t hear of that little boy going elsewhere when he knew Bilbo could raise him better than any of the others.

Bilbo apparently sensed at least part of that, because he gave Bifur a small, watery smile before taking a deep breath and sliding off of his lap.

“There’s still much to do,” Bilbo said, and Bifur could see him steeling himself. “I need to go.”

Bifur didn’t need to asked where. To the morgue, to confirm (although he was sure there was no doubt) that it was Drogo and Primula who were laying on the tables.

“Bofur могли наблюдать Frodo,” Bifur said, and the relief was plain in Bilbo’s face. No one should have to face such a thing alone, and Bifur was realizing that this wasn’t the first time Bilbo had gone through this. There was nothing he could do to help then (he hadn’t known the other man then), but he could and would do all he was able to help Bilbo now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Что случилось?- What happened?  
> Это нормально плакать- It's ok to cry  
> Что вы будете делать с мальчиком?- What will you do with the boy?  
> Разум?- Mind?  
> Bofur могли наблюдать Frodo- Bofur could watch Frodo


	8. I Can't Believe They're Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of minor character death, and possible minor depression

Bilbo was quiet as he drove them home. They had met Detective Lestrade at the morgue, and they had only stayed long enough for Bilbo to make the necessary identifications. The bodies would be moved to the funeral home soon, but first Bilbo had to plan the funeral and get their affairs in order.

Detective Lestrade had been sympathetic, but still businesslike. He had confirmed that Drogo and Primula were Bilbo’s cousins, that Frodo was with Bilbo, and went over the details of the accident.

“As near as we can tell,” the detective said, looking at his report, “It was an accident, not foul play. The boat wasn’t completely watertight, and with all the rain we’ve been having the water was rough. Neither of them had lifejackets on…”

“No one’s drowned in that river in years,” Bilbo said bitterly, and Bifur could tell that he was simply repeating what his cousin had said before.

“They’ll do an autopsy, but from all appearances, the cause of death was drowning,” Detective Lestrade finished, not seeming to mind Bilbo’s interruption.

Bilbo had nodded, seeming slightly lost at the thought that his cousins were gone so suddenly.

 _But it’s not the first time, is it?_  Bifur thought, looking over at his silent companion. _He went through all of this before, when his parents died. Then, he was alone and had that horrid Lobelia hounding him. I don’t think it would get any easier, no matter how many times you did this._

Bilbo also hadn’t cried since they left Bag-End. When Bifur had called Bofur, Bilbo had gone upstairs to clean up his face, and by the time Bofur arrived all traces of tears were gone. Bilbo’s face had been oddly mask-like throughout it all, as though he wasn’t really there.

Bilbo parked the car in the alley before slowly climbing the steps to their flat above Bag-End, Bifur on his heels.

“What will I tell Frodo?” Bilbo asked, causing Bifur to pause. The other man hadn’t looked back, one hand resting on the doorknob, key in the opposite hand. Bilbo’s voice had been soft, and sounded as numb as Bilbo had looked.

“Что его родители не могут вернуться,” Bifur replied. He wasn’t sure how best to go about this. Frodo was so young, not yet two, and he wasn’t sure how they could make him understand. How do you tell a young child that their parents will never come back? “Скажите ему, что им пришлось уйти, и будут следить за емукак ангелы.”

Bilbo gave a slight nod before he opened the door, Bifur following behind him.

Bofur was asleep on the couch, Frodo lying on his chest, sleeping as well. There was music playing from the stereo, although Bifur couldn’t name it. Bilbo watched the scene for a minute before moving forward, gently tapping Bofur on the arm. Bifur felt a small amount of amusement to notice that Frodo had on Bofur’s hat, his cousin looking slightly odd without it. It was far too big for the little boy, but one tiny hand was fisted in the edge of it, showing that he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon.

“Hey,” Bofur said, voice still rough with sleep. He glanced down at Frodo before looking at Bilbo and Bifur. “You ok?”

“Fine,” Bilbo said. “Did Frodo behave?”

Bofur looked like he wanted to press about how ‘fine’ Bilbo was but decided against it. “Good as gold. He was a bit fussy a while ago, think he was tired, and he wanted to play with my hat. I let him, and he calmed down soon enough.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, gratitude in his voice and on his face as he gently picked up the sleeping toddler.

“Don’t mention it,” Bofur said, shrugging. “Though if you can get my hat back I’ll be happy.”

Bilbo glanced down at Frodo with a rueful smile. “I’ll try.”

He disappeared into the guest bedroom, which was where Frodo stayed whenever he came over and where he would likely stay now, leaving the two cousins alone.

“How are you Bifur?” Bofur asked, giving his cousin an assessing look.

“Беспокоясь,” Bifur admitted, his eyes flicking to the room Bilbo had disappeared into. “Он был снят, я думаю, что он все еще в шоке.”

“He likely is,” Bofur agreed, following Bifur’s gaze. “He was close to them, yeah?”

Bifur nodded. “Они были единственными родственниками он был в хороших отношениях с.”

“Then it makes sense that he’s upset,” Bofur said reasonably.

“Я все еще беспокоюсь о нем,” Bifur said. He knew Bilbo was upset, but that wasn’t what worried him. What worried him was the fact that the other man seemed to be bottling up everything he was feeling, putting it away to be dealt with later. Bifur worried about what would happen when Bilbo reached that ‘later’ point.

“I never said you weren’t, or shouldn’t be,” Bofur said reasonably, “But maybe you should talk to him about it?”

Bifur nodded, but didn’t say anything as the door to Frodo’s room opened and Bilbo emerged, holding the baby monitor they used whenever Frodo stayed overnight and Bofur’s hat.

“Thank you again for watching him,” Bilbo said, handing over the hat when he reached the other two.

“Anytime,” Bofur replied easily, tugging his hat back onto his head. “What’s family for if you can’t ask for favors when you need help?”

Bilbo nodded again, and Bifur worried about the other man’s distant expression. It looked like Bilbo was elsewhere, even if he was physically present.

Bifur walked Bofur to the street, and when he returned Bilbo was sitting on the sofa, staring at his hands as the rested palms up in his lap. He didn’t look up when Bifur sat down beside him, nor did he move when Bifur put an arm around his shoulders. They sat in silence for several minutes before Bilbo spoke, his voice soft but strong.

“Drogo was always reckless, even as a child. He was two years younger than me, but we got on the best. He always was ready to search the woods around our homes for dwarves, elves, fairies…whatever creatures we dreamed up that day. He always especially loved tales of water creatures, mermaids, kelpies, the Loch Ness monster…it didn’t matter. He was fascinated. I didn’t know Primula as well at first. She was Drogo’s age, but she was from the other side of the river. They met when they were children, and both sets of parents had decided to take their children fishing. They were near inseparable after that.”

Bifur gently squeezed Bilbo’s shoulder, feeling the younger man relax slightly and lean into his hold. He didn’t say anything, realizing that Bilbo needed this. He needed someone to listen while he remembered them.

“The night before their wedding, Drogo was so nervous. He kept worrying that something would go wrong. I gave up trying to reassure him after the dozenth time. I had a good laugh when I found ‘Runaway Bride’ on the tv and Drogo nearly hyperventilated, panicking that Prim was going to run. She didn’t though, and everything went ok.”

Bifur smiled slightly, thinking of the man he had met and picturing him slightly younger, worried that his bride would leave him at the altar.

“When Frodo was born, I thought Drogo would burst the buttons on his shirt, considering how proud he was. Prim said she always wanted a little boy with Drogo’s curls; Frodo did inherit his father’s curls. I was named godfather; Frodo doesn’t have a godmother. I joked that it was my job, as uncle and godfather, to spoil that little boy rotten whenever I had him before sending him back to his parents. They both just laughed…”

Bilbo curled further into Bifur’s side, turning and resting his head on Bifur’s chest. “I can’t believe that they’re gone,” he whispered, and Bifur hugged him closer. They stayed like that all night, eventually falling asleep on the couch and not waking until Frodo did the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Что его родители не могут вернуться- That his parents cannot return  
> Скажите ему, что им пришлось уйти, и будут следить за емукак ангелы- Tell him they had to leave and will be watching as angels  
> Беспокоясь- Worried  
> Он был снят, я думаю, что он все еще в шоке- He was withdrawn, I think he's still in shock  
> Они были единственными родственниками он был в хороших отношениях с- They were the only family he had a good relationship with  
> Я все еще беспокоюсь о нем- I'm still worried about him
> 
> *If anyone has any idea what they should tell Frodo, how they could make him understand, I'd appreciate the input. I've never been in this situation with a child that young*


	9. Lobelia the Shrew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break between updates. I've been working on my Marry Me fic, which apparently liked to write itself when I tried to write this fic, and when I finished with that I had several things in RL to deal with. I haven't abandoned this, nor do I plan to, I just haven't had as much time to write as I would like, and this fic is a little more time consuming considering I have to translate Bifur's responses. So, sorry again and I'll attempt to have the next chapter out quicker, if I ever decide what Bilbo will tell Frodo when he asks about his parents.  
> Also, there is a very mean Lobelia in this chapter. Homophobia is very lightly implied by her, and there is character bashing centering around her and the rest of Bilbo's family concerning Frodo's inheritance.

Bilbo woke up the next morning with a crick in his neck and a hollow feeling that he couldn’t quite place.

It wasn’t until he had stood (carefully, so as not to wake Bifur) and stretched, taking in Bifur on the couch and the baby monitor on the coffee table, that he realized what was wrong.

Drogo and Primula were dead. His favorite cousins were dead and their son was an orphan.

He planned on adopting Frodo, of course, as his cousins had wanted and as he promised, but he also worried about how much of a fight his relatives would put up. None of them spoke to Drogo or Primula much, and he doubted any of them would mourn their passing, but he had no doubt that they would all try to get their hands on Frodo’s inheritance.

Drogo, like Bilbo, hadn’t needed to work, as he had family money inherited through his father (although not as much as Bilbo, whose father was the head of the Baggins family), and Primula’s father gave her a hefty dowry. Between the two, as well as what they saved from working (as, like Bilbo, neither could stand being idle for very long), they would leave behind a sizeable inheritance for Frodo once he was of age.

It was specified in the will that Frodo’s caretaker would be allowed to access the accounts to help pay for Frodo’s care, although Bilbo had no intention of doing that. He was secure enough financially that he wouldn’t consider touching Frodo’s money, knowing he could afford to care for the boy. He would let it sit and accumulate interest, and then when the boy was old enough he could use it to pay for his education, or whatever he wished to do with his life.

Other relatives wouldn’t see things that way. They, namely Lobelia and her husband Otho, would see a little boy with a fortune to his name. They would see an easy way to make money, adopting Frodo and then using his money for whatever they pleased.

Bilbo had promised himself as soon as he found out about the accident that that would never happen. Frodo would grow up loved and cared for because of who he was, not thrust into that den of greedy thieves.

So, when there was a knock at his door at half past seven that morning, half an hour after he woke up, he wasn’t surprised in the slightest. He was mildly impressed at how quickly word traveled, as he hadn’t been expecting her until at least tomorrow, but his expression was composed as he opened the door and greeted Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

“Lobelia, what can I do for you so early on this fine morning?” Bilbo asked, fake smile in place as he stood so that Lobelia couldn’t see into his home, let alone push past to get inside. He may not be as tall as Bifur, but he had an inch or two on Lobelia.

“I just heard what happened,” Lobelia said, her voice containing false sympathy while in her eyes there was nothing but greed. “Poor Drogo and Primula; such a shame, they were so young!”

“Yes,” Bilbo said, trying not to think of exactly _how_ young they had been.

“I assume young Frodo is here with you?” Lobelia said, trying, unsuccessfully, to peer around Bilbo to see inside the flat.

“Yes, he is,” Bilbo said, keeping his voice level with effort. “I was named godfather to him, and it was stated in their wills that if anything were to happen they would like me to raise him.”

“Oh Bilbo,” Lobelia said, and the false sincerity in her voice made him grit his teeth. “Are you sure you can handle him? He’s so young, and you have Bag-End to run…why, it would be too much to ask anyone to deal with.”

“I am sure I will manage,” Bilbo said, trying to keep from sounding as irritated as he was fast becoming. It was seven-thirty in the morning, he hadn’t slept well, he had a crick in his neck from where he had slept, and he hadn’t even had his morning cup of tea yet! “I have babysat Frodo often enough that I think I will be alright. Bifur has offered to assist me as well, and his cousin has several children.”

“Oh yes, your… _companion_ ,” Lobelia sniffed derisively. “And what will happen when he leaves you? How will one bachelor barely out of his teens manage a business and a toddler without failing at one or the other?”

 _How dare she?_ Bilbo thought furiously, but before he could give her a piece of his mind (and he could be a right dragon when in a temper) Bifur’s large hand settled on his shoulder. Looking up, Bilbo saw his boyfriend glaring at his cousin who, while still defiant, looked slightly concerned at the force of Bifur’s glare.

“Я не отдаст его,” Bifur said, not looking away from Lobelia. He had no doubt that the woman didn’t understand him, but he was certain his meaning would get through. “Он будет прекрасным родителем для него, как у него есть интересы мальчика в глубине души, в отличие от вас. Воровка строптивой!”

Lobelia gaped at the other man. She had no clue what he was saying, but she could tell that he didn’t like her, nor did he buy her false concern any more than Bilbo had. Looking from one to the other, Lobelia decided that discretion was the better part of valor for the moment.

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” she warned before turning and flouncing back down the stairs.

Bilbo shut the door, wanting to slam it but refraining so he didn’t wake Frodo, and leaned against it, looking up at Bifur.

“Thank you,” he murmured, and he meant it. Having Bifur there, even if he wouldn’t have attempted to defend him to Lobelia, had helped tremendously. He still felt lost, and upset that his cousins were gone so soon, but he also hadn’t fallen into the black cloud of depression that he had sunk into days after his parents’ deaths. A cloud that hadn’t truly lifted until he’d met Bifur.

“Что-нибудь для вас,” Bifur said, pulling the younger man into a hug. He meant it. He would go to any lengths to make Bilbo happy, whether he was providing a shoulder to cry on or support against unpleasant relatives. He was relatively certain that they hadn’t heard the last of her, but he was also certain that there was little she could do. His main focus was on trying to help Bilbo cope with his loss and deal with his new-found parenthood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Я не отдаст его- I will not leave him  
> Он будет прекрасным родителем для него, как у него есть интересы мальчика в глубине души, в отличие от вас. Воровка строптивой!- He will make a fine parent for him, as he has the boy's best interest at heart, unlike you. Thieving shrew!  
> Что-нибудь для вас- Anything for you
> 
> *No Frodo in this chapter, as I haven't been able to figure out how they should explain to him why his parents aren't coming back. I'd be happy to hear your thoughts.*


	10. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait & short chapter. RL is a pain sometimes. This mostly focuses on Bilbo, because losing a family member like that is hard.

The day seemed to go downhill from there.

After basking in his lover’s embrace for a few moments, Bilbo forced himself to pull away, going to his study to assemble the documents he would need to take to his lawyer later today. By the time he emerged from the room, Frodo had woken up and Bifur had gotten him ready for the day. He went to the kitchen to start breakfast, listening to Frodo and Bifur in the living room.

He had to steel his nerves when it was time to call them to breakfast, his appearance unknowingly coinciding with Frodo’s innocent questions about “Ma” and “Da”.

Shushing his little nephew (he was actually some manner of cousin, but nephew was much easier), Bilbo simply stated that his mother and father had gone away for a while. Not much else could be said, as there would be little that the child would understand at this point.

Bofur was once again called for babysitter duty, the cheerful toymaker agreeing readily to watch Frodo while Bifur went with Bilbo. He could see, and he would bet his cousin could as well, the sadness that the smaller man was trying to hide. He wasn’t giving in to despair, but he also didn’t seem to have accepted that Drogo and Primula truly would not come back.

The meeting was quick and to the point, Bilbo not in the mood to deal with Gandalf’s well-meaning questions about how he was coping. Bifur looked on worriedly as his smaller lover laid out everything before Gandalf, starting with Lobelia’s continued harassment and ending with her threat and attempt to take Frodo. The aged lawyer promised he would do everything he could to prevent that, which seemed to calm Bilbo even as he shrugged off the man’s invitation for tea.

He was silent all day, speaking only when spoken to and seeming to be in his own world most of the time. When they went to bed that night, Bifur knew that if Bilbo was the same tomorrow he would have to talk to him. He didn’t want to hurt the younger man, and that talk likely would hurt Bilbo, but it would also help him.

He was awakened barely three hours after he fell asleep by Bilbo screaming. He was trapped in a nightmare, and from Bifur could hear it was either about his parents’ or his cousins’ deaths.

“Help them,” Bilbo shrieked, thrashing around as Bifur tried, unsuccessfully, to wake him. “Somebody help them! They’re drowning!”

 _Cousins then,_ Bifur thought grimly, increasing his efforts to rouse Bilbo, muttering soothing nonsense.

Bilbo woke with a start, sitting bolt upright, face flushed and eyes still glazed. He was sobbing, the tears had hadn’t given into earlier pouring out now. Bifur pulled him close, letting Bilbo burrow into his embrace, the younger man curling up until he was just a shuddering ball sitting in Bifur’s lap.

“Вы в порядке,” Bifur murmured softly. “Вы в безопасности.”

He kept speaking, murmuring things in a similar vein until Bilbo stopped shuddering. The smaller man slowly uncurled, looking up a Bifur through wet eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, blushing.

“Там нет ничего просить прощения,” Bifur said, pressing a light kiss to Bilbo’s lips. They were wet, salty from the tears he had shed.

Sleep was a long time coming after that. The two lay quietly, neither speaking. Bilbo had gone to wash his face and check on Frodo, who had luckily not woken when his uncle screamed, before curling up next to Bifur again.

“I don’t want to believe they’re gone,” Bilbo said some time later, Bifur listening quietly. “First my mother and father, then Drogo and Primula…who next? I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you or Frodo.”

“Мы будет прекрасно,” Bifur said, pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s temple.

“Lobelia won’t stop,” Bilbo warned. “She’s been pestering me about Bag-End since my parents died, and now she’ll start with Frodo.”

“И она не будет получать ни одного из них,” Bifur replied.

Neither said anything else after that. Bifur fell into a restful sleep soon after, but Bilbo’s sleep was restless. He would wake up, frantic that something would happen to the two remaining members of his family. Each time, Bifur soothed him, murmuring reassurances until Bilbo could sleep again.

It would be many nights before Bilbo would rest peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Вы в порядке- You're ok  
> Вы в безопасности- You're safe  
> Там нет ничего просить прощения- There's nothing to be sorry for  
> Мы будет прекрасно- We will be fine  
> И она не будет получать ни одного из них- And she will not get either of them


	11. Not An Update

I know it has been a while since I updated this or any of my other fics, and I apologize for that. I've been having some personal problems, so I haven't had much time to write. I'll try to have a new chapter up before New Year's if I can. Sorry again. This was mostly just to let you know I didn't abandon any of my fics, that they all will be completed. It will just take longer than it usually does.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Halloween, since I can't afford to give out candy this year, I decided to do something else and update each of my WIPs on this site.

It took months before they were able to settle into a functional routine.

Frodo’s questions about where his parents were gradually faded away. He was very young, after all, and he seemed to accept that they weren’t coming back, or he thought that they would be back someday. Neither Bilbo nor Bifur knew which it was, but the lad was healthy and happy, so that was all that mattered to them.

Gandalf represented Bilbo in court when the Sackville-Bagginses tried to overrule Drogo and Primula’s will. They were subsequently all but laughed out of court, as Bilbo, despite being younger than both of them, had his finances in better order and had been running his own business for several years. He also had more experience with Frodo, as Lobelia and Otho had only met the boy once, while Frodo had stayed with Bilbo, and later Bifur, regularly.

After the court case was settled and Bilbo’s guardianship of Frodo was secured, Bifur persuaded Bilbo to see a therapist. The nightmares were only getting worse, and Bilbo couldn’t go on like that. While he was in the hospital after his accident, he had met a woman named Galadriel who had seemed almost able to read his mind. She had helped him work through his feelings after the accident, although his cousins had done their best as well, and Bifur thought that she would be able to help Bilbo as well.

Bilbo had protested, as he didn’t want to admit that he couldn’t handle this himself, but after one of his nightmares had caused him to shout loudly enough to wake Frodo up, he agreed.

Galadriel was kind and compassionate, and Bilbo realized that Bifur was right. It seemed like she could read his mind, seeing his despair about his cousins, his parents. His guilt for not stopping Drogo and Primula from sailing when he’d thought it wasn’t safe. His fears that Bifur and Frodo would be injured somehow, that someone would take Frodo away from him. Even that Bifur would leave, although he had admitted that the last fear might have been influenced by his fatigue, as he had never worried about Bifur leaving him before.

Bilbo met with Galadriel twice a week, bringing in a shy, quiet lad named Ori to help Bifur in the shop on the mornings he would be meeting with Galadriel. The lad was bright and respectful, and Bifur apparently knew him from somewhere as the two were conversing in a mixture of Russian and sign language within minutes. It was nice, seeing Bifur interacting with someone else so easily, as he knew his partner was still frustrated whenever he wasn’t able to make someone understand him.

Bifur was already teaching Frodo bits of Russian and sign language, stating that it was easier for him to learn as a child than it would be as an adult. After seeing the rate Frodo was picking up both languages, Bilbo had conceded that Bifur was likely right.

They had eventually had time for Bilbo to be introduced to the rest of Bifur’s family. Bofur was known to him, of course, but he met Bombur and his merry brood. Bombur and his wife Sela had five children of their own with a sixth on the way, and Bilbo had bonded with the jolly cook immediately, the two beginning to exchange recipes before an hour had passed. Bifur had been pleased at how well they were getting along, Frodo playing with Bombur’s two youngest happily, and it was the happiest that Bifur had seen Bilbo since Drogo and Primula’s deaths.

They visited the cemetery regularly, leaving flowers and ensuring the graves were being maintained properly. Sometimes they took Frodo with them, other times they went alone. Sometimes Bilbo wanted a moment to himself, so Bifur would wander a ways away, out of hearing range so he wouldn’t be tempted to eavesdrop. He didn’t know what Bilbo said during those times, but he suspected it was a mixture of sorrow for their deaths and vows that he would raise their son well.

Slowly Bifur began introducing Bilbo to the rest of his friends.

Dori and Nori, Ori’s elder brothers, had both been in to pick Ori up at various times. No one would say what it was that Nori did when asked, so Bilbo had learned not to ask. Dori owned his own tea shop, a recent decision that had been his dream since he was a child. He and Bilbo would sit and compare different flavors of tea, and he had given Bilbo rather good advice about childcare, as he had raised Ori from the time that he was a baby and had half-raised Nori as well.

Bifur introduced Bilbo to Oin when it was time for Frodo’s checkup, as he trusted the old medic more than any other. Gloin loved having someone new to talk to about his wife and son, the lights of his life. Everyone else had heard the stories many times and would cut him off before he could get started, but Bilbo was a new audience, one who would also ask for tips when they had trouble with Frodo.

Fili and Kili were only slightly younger than Ori and mischief incarnate. Bilbo was reminded of a few of his younger cousins, and of Drogo and Primula when they were children, and so he was fondly tolerant of their more harmless pranks, although he took them to task when they played a prank that had the potential to hurt someone. Their mother, Dis, took to Bilbo immediately, and she came by the store frequently to talk to him as well as to buy books, as she was a voracious reader. Her brother, Thorin, took longer to warm to Bilbo, but eventually the smaller man had won him over.

Balin enjoyed having a new bookstore to browse, and he was there weekly to buy books, some for his personal research and others he used for his classes that the nearby college. Dwalin, like Thorin, took slightly longer to warm to Bilbo, and the feeling was rather mutual as it was clear that Dwalin intimidated Bilbo. Frodo managed to win him over first, as Dwalin had always had a soft spot for children, but he warmed to Bilbo soon after.

Bifur eventually carved a small fawn that joined Bilbo’s deer on their mantle, although both were taken down frequently so Frodo could play with them.

A few months after the accident, Bilbo was able to make his peace with what had happened to his cousins. He still met with Galadriel, but his visits had been moved back to once per week. He still occasionally had nightmares, but Bifur was always there when he woke, soothing him and reminding him that he wasn’t alone.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was good, and they were happy.


End file.
